


In Exchange

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: AU Yeah AUgust 2020 [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers – All Media Types
Genre: AU Yeah August 2020, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Enemies, Betrayal, Community: trope_bingo, Deal With the Devil, Decepticon!Prowl, Gen, Injury, Major Character Injury, The Fall of Praxus, Trope Bingo Round 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Jazz gets separated from his team and has to make his own way back to base, which includes cutting through Decepticon turf. He finds an injured Decepticon who's willing to help him, but only if Jazz helps him in return.
Series: AU Yeah AUgust 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860307
Comments: 16
Kudos: 77
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fifteen





	In Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AU Yeah AUgust Day 6 – Enemies and Trope Bingo Round 15 Prompt: Deal with the Devil.

Jazz cursed when he found himself cut off from the rest of his team, his escape route blocked by debris.

' _Jazz_!' Bumblebee yelled over comms. ' _Are you okay?_ '

' _'m fine,_ ' Jazz assured him because he wasn't leaking _that_ much, and those dents would pop right out. Eventually. ' _Can't get to you, though_.'

' _We'll come –_ '

' _No,_ ' Jazz interrupted. ' _It's not safe for you to come to get me. I'm still mobile, I'll make my own way out. Get the rest of the team back to base._ '

' _But - !'_

' _I've been through worse. Get the team back, Bumblebee, that's an order._ '

Bumblebee didn't reply for a few nano-kliks but finally answered, ' _okay. But if you're not back in a few cycles, we're coming looking, orders or no orders._ '

' _Heh. If I'm not back by then, I'll probably need it. See you soon._ '

Jazz took a few kliks to patch himself up and refuel to compensate for the energon he'd lost. He took stock of his supplies, which could be better but could also be a lot worse, and did his best to plan an alternate route back to base. The plan would probably go to hell because the maps hadn't been updated since the last bombing, let alone since buildings had collapsed today. Jazz's best option was to go through the tunnels running under the city, but the closest entrance was under Decepticon turf.

Well, maybe former Decepticon turf, depending on how things had fallen out once Jazz had gotten cut off from the rest of the battle. Anyway, there was no help for it. Jazz worked his way through the rubble, sensors on high. The area was abandoned, fortunately, but Jazz didn't let his guard down. That was what got a mech killed. It turned out to be a good plan, too, because when he got close to his target, he picked up a Decepticon ID beacon.

Damn! Jazz froze and began to recalculate his route, but it was too late. The Con had picked him up, as well.

"I can hear you, Autobot."

Jazz knew that voice. Oh, he knew that voice! That was Prowl, the Decepticon tactician responsible for some of the worst defeats the Autobots had suffered throughout the war. The strat-tact mecha spent a lot of time going frantic while they tried to figure out what Prowl might do and how they could counter it. The mech was smart, he was dangerous, and he was ruthless. Jazz had intercepted enough Decepticon battlefield transmissions to know that. Prowl was more than willing to leave soldiers behind if he deemed it necessary. But, he was alone, so maybe the tables had been turned.

"Can hear you too," Jazz replied. "What about it?"

"You're attempting to access the tunnels to return to your nearest Autobase. That's the only logical reason for you to be here. The entrances are locked and secured," Prowl made a staticky sound, telling Jazz the mech was injured. "I can get you past them."

"Yeah?" Jazz didn't emerge from cover. "In exchange for what?"

"As you've no doubt determined from the static in my voice, I am damaged. I will take you past the entrances and allow me to escort you back to your base as a prisoner in exchange for medical care."

"You sound pretty sure I'll hold up my end of the deal."

Prowl managed a laugh. "As if Autobot honour would permit you to do anything else. I expect an interrogation, perhaps even an attempt at a forced download, but I won't be harmed. I'll only need to hold out until Megatron makes an exchange to get me back. Interesting how Autobot ' honour' doesn't put you above bribery."

"Yeah, well," Jazz said, slowly revealing his position. "There are Autobots, and then there's Autobots."

Just as Jazz recognized Prowl, Prowl recognized Jazz.

"Ah," he said softly, looking up at Jazz with pain-dulled optics caused by the gaping shrapnel wound in one side. "So there are."

"I could just kill you," Jazz said matter-of-factly. "Losing you would deal the Cons a hell of a blow, and you're right about Prime holding out for an exchange."

"You could kill me here, and he'd never know," Prowl agreed. "I'm sure you could crack the security measures on the doors, given enough time. I calculate you would even avoid ninety-five percent of the traps, and take minimal damage from three percent of the ones you didn't. Of course, that still leaves a slim possibility that neither of us makes it out of here alive. I suppose you're thinking that two percent chance of your own death is worth the Autobot lives depriving the Decepticons of my strategic and tactical abilities would save."

"Practically reading my mind, mech."

"Hm. I see. Well, then," Prowl winced, pressing a hand to the worst of the injury. "I imagine something else is in order. Very well. In exchange for my life and safe passage, I will tell your Prime about Project Trypticon."

"Never heard of it," Jazz lied.

Prowl smirked. "You have. You just don't know, entirely, what it is."

"And why would you give that up?" Project Trypticon was a significant project, and majorly secret, linked to the Decepticon's long-term strategic goals.

"Because it's a foolish risk and a waste of energon," Prowl said sharply. "It will, in the end, do more harm than good to the Cause."

So, doubly in Prowl's interests to tell the Autobots about them. Jazz, tempted as he was to just shank the mech right there and let him gray while Jazz cracked the security, had to admit that would be valuable intel.

"My drives will self-destruct upon my death," Prowl added, "and you don't have the time or the equipment here to forcibly download my data. You need me, Jazz."

Jazz released the command he'd put at the ready to pull a vibro-blade from his subspace. "Yeah, suppose I do. Let me at least get you patched up, so you're not leaking all over the place."

"Many thanks," Prowl murmured, and Jazz wasn't even sure it was sarcastic.

Once Jazz had Prowl patched up, he got one of the mech's arms over his shoulders and hauled the Decepticon to his feet. Prowl must have been in pain, but he didn't make any noise about it. He did unlock the door for Jazz, and the two of them entered the darkness of the underground tunnels.

Prowl didn't make Jazz ask about traps, or dead ends, or make any jibes like Jazz would have expected. Maybe he found it tactically unsound to slag off the mech who was saving your life. Maybe he was just hurting too bad. Jazz was okay with the silence either way. It was a long slog through dangerous territory, and he needed to save every milli-watt of power he could. Finally, though, he got back to Autobot territory. The first thing he did was ping GPS to double-check coordinates, the second was ping them to Bumblebee with a request for extract.

' _Jazz!_ ' The scout's relief was evident. ' _Thank Primus you're okay. I'm putting together a retrieval team for you now._ '

' _Make sure they've got some stasis cuffs on them,_ ' Jazz replied. ' _I've got a prisoner._ '

If Bumblebee was surprised, he didn't say anything. ' _Acknowledged. See you soon, Jazz._ '

"So," Prowl said, breaking his long silence. "Your team is on the way. Tell me, what can I expect? Stasis cuffs and shock prods, or warm energon and a fluffy blanket?"

Jazz gave him a look. "No shock prods, mech. What kinda stories are they telling over on your side? And if anyone is using shock prods on prisoners, I want to know who so I can put a stop to it right now."

"We'll see," Prowl said, optics already fixed on the extraction vessel that was just coming over the horizon. "I can't barter away my information for nothing, now, can I?"

Jazz snorted. "I'll make sure you get the softest bunk in the stockade. That close enough to the fluffy blankets for you?"

"Almost. I'll expect mixite chips on the pillow to make up for it."

Jazz almost laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Very well. You'll want to take a closer look at the activities at Autobase Ambustus. I'll give you the names once I have my mixite chips."

Jazz didn't make a reply to that, but he did want the names and Prowl _had_ kept his word about getting Jazz safely through the tunnel traps. So, Prowl got his mixite chips. Jazz got his names and a half-dozen mecha who really should have known better wound up getting _really_ well acquainted with the stockade back at Iacon. They also got a lecture from Optimus Prime himself on proper Autobot conduct and his own disappointment that Jazz thought was probably more effective than any amount of jail time.

Optimus might've been able to weaponize disappointment, but he could still be a canny negotiator when the reasons were right. Megatron was going to have to pay big to get his tactician back. Prowl wound up cooling his heels in a cell for nearly a meta-cycle as negotiations went on – and Prowl's heels weren't the only thing. Megatron's interest in making the trade seemed to fade as well. At the same time, Decepticon attacks got more vicious and chaotic. They also started to see more defeats, but that didn't seem to matter to Megatron. It wasn't enough to turn the tide in the Autobots' favour, but it was frequent enough to be noticeable.

Project Trypticon was abandoned, though. Guess the project was too vulnerable, and Prowl's intel was too big of a risk, at least for now. Jazz wasn't going to argue with the result. He didn't need the Cons getting hold of a metrotitan, thank you very much.

Prowl, probably to lull them into a false sense of security, was a model prisoner. He even got to the point where he could, under guard, visit one of the smaller rec rooms. Usually, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker guarded him, which worked out surprisingly well. Prowl had taken one look at them at complied without any argument, and Jazz could not for the life of him explain that one. It definitely wasn't fear, but Jazz wasn't sure what it was, besides something that worked.

"He doesn't talk," Sunstreaker reported back after they'd been doing this for a few cycles. "Might make a few snippy comments about the entertainment, but that's it."

"Yeah, I don't think we're gonna get anything out of him," Sideswipe added. "Sorry, Jazz."

"S'okay." Jazz hadn't expected them to anyway. They had all the data they could download now anyway. Pretty much anything else after this was Prowl's opinions and predictions, which would be useful, but hey, they'd been working without them this long.

Jazz swung by the rec room Prowl frequented every so often, for a little bit of banter. Mech was smart and fast, and liked verbal sparring. Jazz was down with that. Jazz was making one of those visits when everything went to hell. The media screen had been playing some old movie, and Jazz hadn't really been paying attention to it, but when it got interrupted for breaking news, it caught _everyone's_ attention.

Praxus had been attacked by the Decepticons. Even from drone footage, shot at a distance and shaky from shockwaves, Jazz could see that the city was going to be gone before any assistance could get to it. His comm suite blew up with messages and orders and requests for orders. Jazz split off processing threads to prioritize and handle them even as he whipped around to look at Prowl. The Decepticon was on his feet, face a mask of horror.

"No," Prowl said in disbelief. His fists clenched. "No, he can't… There's no strategic value to Praxus. They're _neutral_. There's – I don't – I don't – I don't - "

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, slightly amazed he could feel fresh alarm. It felt like the horrors unfolding on the screen should have maxed that out. But Prowl's fists were so tight Jazz could hear the knuckles creak, and his optics were flickering alarmingly. Prowl didn't reply, and Jazz sent an emergency ping to medical because something bad was about to happen.

Sideswipe, slightly closer to Prowl and far more attentive than people gave him credit for, was the one to catch Prowl as he crashed.

* * *

Prowl recognized the symptoms of a crash as he began to boot. He used a sneaky sub-boot sequence that was hard to detect that allowed him to regain consciousness before anyone who might be near could realize. Prowl let himself boot up the rest of the way, checked his memory cache for the cause of the –

" _Megatron!_ " he snarled, trying to sit upright. Straps strong enough to hold down a shuttle prevented it. "Praxus! He swore to me…"

"Yeah, bet he did." Jazz, on his left, looking worn and sounding genuinely grief-stricken. "I'm sorry about Praxus, Prowl, I am. We've sent search-and-rescue teams, but it doesn't look good."

"You won't find any," Prowl said with certainty. "He'll have used photon missiles to destroy the city and had a perimeter of Seekers to destroy anyone trying to get out of the city. Praxus is…Praxus is gone."

Prowl had not thought he had much love for his home city. He had left it behind, eagerly, long ago. But underneath the rage, the shock, and the betrayal, he was surprised to find that he still cared. He clenched a fist.

"I am going to kill Megatron."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," he said with certainty. "And you are going to give me the tools to do it. I will give you all the strategic and tactical support you desire in exchange. You may be my enemy, but for _this,_ I would make an agreement with Unicron _himself_."

Jazz leaned into his field of vision, looking deadly serious. "Mech," he said softly, "I think we got ourselves a deal."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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>   * Short comments
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